


His Punishment

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Series: I'm Sorry [18]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Burns, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: Jason's self-harm past and why he didn't react to Tim's reveal of self-harm





	His Punishment

Jason was freaking out, coming close to hyperventilation as he stumbled out of the warehouse and into the night hair, rain pouring down and soaking his hair. He was trembling violently as he climbed onto his motorcycle and drove to his safehouse on autopilot.

He’d been Red Hood for a few months and had already established a name for himself. The members of Gotham’s underworld knew better than to fuck with him.

But this…?

Twenty kids.  _ Kids _ . Street kids like he’d been before he’d tried to fuck Batman over and steal his tires. Twenty streets kids had been gutted and mutilated and left in a warehouse for Jason to see.

His hands trembled as he pulled off his jacket to stand in the middle of his safehouse in at-shirt, pulling out his lighter and cigarette. His hands shook so badly and he couldn’t help but cry out when he dropped the cigarette, catching his bare arm on the flaming part.

He quickly crushed the cigarette beneath his foot and moved to the bathroom to run the burn under the water, though he froze. It hurt. It was  _ agonizing. _

But he deserved it. He’d fucked up, let those kids die. He...didn’t he deserve to be hurt? To feel a least a  _ fraction  _ of what they did?

This time, his hands were stable as he relit another cigarette in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror before slowly, slowly, pressing the burning end of the cigarette to his skin. He clenched his teeth, biting back a scream at the pain before he finally pulled it back and stared down at the red, inflamed skin.

But it felt good. Like he was getting the punishment he deserved for letting those defenseless homeless street kids die because he was too stupid to think before he began pulling triggers.

He stared down at the skin, suddenly fueld with an overwhelming urge to hurt himself as penance for letting those kids lose their lives. He took a seat on the closed toilet seat, moving the cigarette to a clean part of skin on the same forearm, pressing it down harder this time. This time he couldn’t bite back a shout of pain and he was shivering, breathing harder than before.

But a second later he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until twenty-one welts littered his arm. Twenty to represent the dead children and one more for good luck. Jason closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying to get control of the pain long enough to stand and crush the cigarette before throwing it away and running his arm under cool water.

The burns wouldn’t stay, unfortunately. But good. It was good. Because that meant that Jason could burn himself again the next time someone died, a kid died, that he could have protected.

He didn’t bother changing his clothes, crawling into bed after bandaging his arm and clutching it to his chest. It still burned but it was a good burn. It was a reminder. An incentive to not fuck up again. But also a punishment for the next time he did.

 

……………...

 

It was the first time he’d met the new Robin and Jason couldn’t decide if the kid was a genius or an idiot.

He’d been ridiculously easily to knock out and drag off to an empty warehouse where Jason had had every intention of beating the shit out of New Robin before calling Batman and threatening him with the kid’s life.

That was, until he’d pulled the kid’s gloves off and seen the array of scars that littered the boy’s arm.

“Holy shit,” Jason whispered, taking his helmet off to get a better look.

“You’re the second Robin, right?”

He barely held back a yelp, leaping back and glaring at Robin who had apparently regained consciousness. He anger only lasted a fraction of a second before he was looking back at the scars.

“Did you do this to yourself?” he demanded, placing his hands on his hips and glaring at Robin.

The kid shrugged. “Yeah,” he replied easily.

“W-why?” It was appalling. Why would someone  _ willingly  _ hurt themselves?!

_ You do it. _

_ I deserve it. _

Robin shrugged again. “My parents didn’t give me a lot of attention so I turned to self-harm. Sometimes they hit me but it got me attention.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “Shit kid,” he whispered. “Do you...still…”

“No,” Robin replied. “Not since B took me in. My parents are dead.”

Jason couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah,” he murmured. “He does like orphans, doesn’t he?”

Robin’s lips twitched in a smile for half a second. “So are you going to kill me? Cause that’d be nice.”

Jason stared at him. “What are you, suicidal?”

Robin shrugged for the third time. “I’ve thought about it,” he said easily. “But no, I’ll never do it. Nightwing, though…”

“What about Nightwing?” Jason demanded because he’d never admit it but he’d always had a soft spot/childhood attraction to the first Robin.

“It’s nothing,” Robin said, shaking his head. “Sory. Just...I don’t know him well.”

“Yeah,” Jason muttered. “I didn’t either.”

“So…” Robin said slowly. “Are you going to kill me? Or torture me?”

“I was,” Jason replied, leaning back. “But I think you torture yourself enough for the both of us.”

“If you let me go, I won’t tell Batman about you,” Robin offered. “I get that you probably don’t believe me and that’s chill, but I really would rather not get beat up tonight.”

And yeah, Jason couldn’t blame him. Although he had a good long list of fifteen times he needed to burn himself that night and he kind of wanted to get on that as soon as possible.

Well, it would be sixteen if he added Robin’s child abuse to the list.

So it was sixteen times he had to burn himself.

“Deal,” he declared, swiftly untying Robin and tossing the replacement his gloves. “Not a word.”

Robin nodded and the two went their separate ways.

 

……….

 

Jason sat in the bedroom of his safehouse, meticulously burning himself for all fifteen victims - and Robin - that he’d been unable to help.

On the other side of the road, watching through binoculars, was Robin. He watched as Red Hood burned himself, staring down at his injuries for several moments before finally moving and bandaging himself.

Shaking his head, Robin swore to himself that he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. 

And he didn’t. Not even to Red Hood himself.

  
..............

 

Jason looked out the window of the plane before reaching over and shaking Dick.

"Hey, Goldie," he said gently, waiting for the acrobat to sit up and look around through tired eyes. "We're here."


End file.
